


but, oh, how rich the soil

by sternenrotz



Series: broken hearts hurt but they make us strong (queer horror verse) [2]
Category: The Horrors (Band)
Genre: Banter, Cissexism, Drinking, First Meetings, Gay Bar, Gen, M/M, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, ignorance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10040699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternenrotz/pseuds/sternenrotz
Summary: Tom comes along to meet Faris' new friends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> titled after "The One True Colour" by Enter Shikari.
> 
> set in 2005. Josh and Joe are trans guys, Rhys is a trans girl and her chosen name is Dilys, Faris and Tom both currently identify as cis. seeing as this is a fic from Tom's POV, massive content warning for cisgender ignorance.

Tom feels a gay bar is an odd place to discuss an art project, but it was Faris' idea, or maybe the idea of that girl he met. He doesn't remember that.

They get to Sebastian’s too early, so the bar’s still half empty. Or maybe Faris' girl and her friends are late. In any case, they sit in a booth near the back of the room after ordering their drinks.

“You okay?”

Faris makes a noncommittal noise and sips from his whiskey cola.

Tom hasn’t been here before, or at least he can't remember it, but the bar's a nice place. A big crystal chandelier dangles from the ceiling and bathes the room in soft pink light, and the upholstery is clean soft plush. It doesn't seem like a place with holes in the bathroom stalls, either.

“Come here.”

It's not that Tom _isn't_ nervous, but he can see Faris is and what it's doing to him, his big red bottom lip chewed raw between his teeth. Tom’s hand goes to the inside of Faris' thigh when he leans in and kisses some of the nerves away.

When they went to get their drinks, the barman asked whether they were together, and Tom said, they're not. Faris said _low-commitment open relationship_ , which is Faris for “fuck buddies,” but Tom didn't feel the need to translate.

Well, they're not _together_ , but Tom still hopes he can settle Faris down with a bit of snogging. From the way his muscles untense, he presumes it's working. Faris tastes bitter like whiskey and minty like toothpaste. Of course, he tastes like _more_ too, but maybe that's just the leftover thrill of kissing in a public place. The only ones there to see are that barman and the two middle-aged queens sat in the booth across the room, but Tom's sure one of them's gawking at them. He's not sure how to feel about that. At least Faris is unlikely to see it from where he’s sitting.

When he pulls back, Tom asks, “better?”

“Little bit.”

“Relax.”

Faris looks at him blankly through the thick curtain of his fringe, and he sips his drink one more time.

Tom whispers, “Just think what I'm gonna do to you tonight if you get anxious again.”

It's enough to make Faris laugh, which Tom supposes is better than nothing.

“Better,” he says, and he takes hold of his drink once more.

They had sex an hour or so before they left the house and then took a shower, but Tom doesn’t remember any particulars. Then again, they've also had so much sex since they moved in together that remembering the details of every single time is near impossible.

Tom sips his drink for the first time, chilly with the ice cubes that clunk inside the glass. He watches Faris some more, the pen he pulled out from somewhere that's chasing obscure patterns across the back of his hand. Even after the shower the sex clings to him, his swollen bottom lip and his hair a bit messier than usual. His eyes seem lazy with sex, too, although they blow wide when the door opens and his head reflexively goes up.

“Hey, that's them.”

Tom automatically follows his gaze.

There's three of them, two little ones and another broader one with a hairdo somewhere between a mushroom cloud and the bird from the Osbournes. Tom recognises one of the little ones as Faris' girl-person, the one with the pageboy cut and the pointy features. She – or maybe he, Tom realises at that moment that he doesn't know, what's with this transgender thing… _They_ are wearing a gaudy waistcoat that looks like pleather and an equally gaudy polka dot pattern shirt. Less make-up than they had on at the club, no tits.

He can't tell the gender of the other little one either as he watches the group order at the bar. The two of them are holding hands, and this one's wearing the same too-tight jeans and eyeliner as the other one. But other than that, they don't look too similar. Little One Two has a round face with a stubby nose and an emo haircut that has obviously been dyed, so the back of their head is already growing back in with light hair.

Faris finally waves when the pointy one is heading towards their booth, a disgustingly big and genuine smile on their face. The other two trail close behind, and Mushroom Cloud raises their hand to twiddle their fingers in a ridiculous manner.

“Hey,” Pointy One says in a warm voice that doesn't help Tom with his gender confusion. “I'm Dilys.”

Little One Two reaches out a hand to shake Tom's. In a similarly ambiguous but much more nasal voice, they say, “I'm Jo.”

Or maybe that's _Joe_ , Tom can't tell. Their hands are small but strong with calluses on the fingers.

Both the little ones take their seats across from him and Faris. Joe-slash-Jo pulls out another chair for Mushroom Cloud, who's currently shaking Faris' hand, but if they introduced themself already, Tom didn't catch it.

Next thing they move to shake his hand, too, after they take off their big woollen pea coat. In that second, the first thing Tom sees is _tits_. Big, round tits pressed into either a blouse or a dress shirt with the first few buttons undone. He figures it's rude to stare for too long, though, so he looks Mushroom Cloud in the eyes and shakes their-slash-her-slash-maybe-his hand instead.

“Hi, I'm Joshua.”

“I'm Tom,” Tom says back.

Mushroom Cloud has stubby painted-black nails that look like they've been bitten off. They're wearing heavy black eye makeup and what's definitely lipstick, mouth too red to be natural. They sit down, finally, and Tom realises it's generally rude to stare. Maybe he should just ask.

“So, you're a boy who wants to be a girl, right?”

Joshua bursts out into a disturbingly high-pitched giggle somewhere between a witch’s cackle and the noise dolphins make. Tom supposes it indicates that's _not_ what they are. The two little ones, Joe-slash-Jo and Dilys, throw glances at each other and then into Faris' direction.

“I said I was only bringing him for moral support,” Faris says. “I thought he'd be smarter than that.”

Finally, Joshua manages to stop laughing, or at least suppresses it somewhat. “No, no. I'm a boy, and I like being a boy,” he says. Tom’s reasonably sure he can say _he_. “I just have massive tits, is all.”

Joshua reaches down to do one of the buttons exposing his cleavage up.

A well-aimed boot hits Tom's shin. Before the pain gets through to him, he already knows it's Faris' doing.

“Fuck off, you just kicked me.”

Joshua says, “Oh no, it's fine, it happens all the time.”

Faris says, “No, see, I have to kick him or else he won't learn.”

Josh bursts out into another fit of unsettlingly shrieky giggles. Tom wonders if it's okay to call him Josh. In any case, he wants to die.

In the end, they don't discuss Faris' art project at all, and Tom wonders why Faris even felt the need to bring him along for moral support. He feels guilty for questioning it immediately, but still, when the rest of them get into a conversation about Jesus and Mary Chain, Tom's not sure if he should engage, or even if he wants to.

“What about you, Tomethy? What do you think?” Dilys finally asks.

She's on her second or third drink, Tom hasn't been keeping track. She's a bubbly drunk, chatty and giggly and just about permanently attached to Joe-with-an-E next to her.

“Tomethy,” Tom repeats. He can't believe Faris’ stupid nickname for him has made it into these people's vocabulary already. “Why're you calling me Tomethy?”

Which, maybe, isn't something he should have asked. As soon as he does, Joe and Josh croon in unison, “ _Tomethy_.”

“It's cute,” Dilys insists, “It's a much better name than Thomas, is that your name? Short for Thomas?”

“No, it's… it's not short for anything. It's just Tom.” Because nobody ever believes that, he adds, “It's on my license and all.”

“It's okay, you don't have to show us.” Dilys laughs in a way that's most likely _at_ him. She turns to Faris and says, “No, but really, it's really cute, I love it.”

Faris says, in his deadpan Faris voice, “Thank you.”

Dilys giggles as she raises her glass up to her mouth. She's switched from the regular spirit and mixer to an unholy girlie concoction that’s brightly coloured with a cherry floating in it and sugar on the rim. Joe's got a matching one in front of him, and just looking at it makes Tom feel the hangover coming on.

“So, do you ever call him Tomethy when you two are… you know?” Dilys asks.

“When we two are _what_?” Faris asks back

At the same time, Josh helpfully supplies, “When you're bumming him?”.

Tom says, “If he called me that in bed I'd push him off the mattress.”

Because he knows Faris is about to say something stupid, Tom employs his favourite tactic to shut him up and leans over to kiss him.

Dilys _aww_ s. As soon as Tom's pulled back, she turns her head to let Joe kiss her, too, not about to be one-upped. Tom once again realises how much he hates meeting other couples, and it's because he invariably thinks about _that_. To make matters worse, he's not sure how the logistics work this time.

“I've a question, but don't get mad, okay? So, when you two… when you're having _sex_ , how's that, I mean, which of you… is it straight sex, or…”

As soon as he said it, Tom realises this is probably the most embarrassing thing he’s said tonight, and probably in the entirety of his life so far. Before his face can get even hotter than it is, he cuts himself off and does the universal hand gesture for _penis in vagina_.

“Why're you asking, d'you want in?” Joe asks.

At the same time Josh and Dilys break out into matching braying laughter, but Joe can't stay composed for much longer than that, either.

Dilys finally puts on a face like she caught a whiff of something rancid and says, “Oh my God.”

Tom's face is _so red_. He can already see the look Faris is giving him from the corner of his eye, but he misses the kick to his shin he was sure would follow.

“Ouch,” Joe says, in the most nasal genuine voice.

That's when Dilys turns her head to face _Faris_ instead.

Tom wants to die either way.

They don't leave until it's past midnight and they all have to stumble over to their bus stops. Outside is a crisp, clear night, and even in his coat with the booze warming him up Tom shudders at the cold air. The lot of them say goodbye to Josh outside the bar since he says he lives only a few streets away.

Joe and Dilys get a hug and two kisses on the cheek each, and then Josh moves down the line. He sticks out his hand for Faris to shake once again. “It was nice to meet you, Ferris.”

“Faris,” Faris deadpans back. “You said _Ferris_.”

Tom involuntarily places one hand on his arm to calm him before he can help it.

“Faris,” Josh repeats. “Nice to have met you.”

“It’s nice to have met you, too,” Faris says back, still in the same voice.

Josh leans in for a hug as well. To Tom’s dull surprise, Faris accepts for a short second.

“See you around,” Faris says.

Finally, Josh turns to Tom himself.

Tom’s not sure what he’s expecting. Josh’s buttoned up in his coat again, so big it obscures the lines of his body. He’s got a ridiculous knitted scarf around his neck, too, face pink with the booze and the cold. His hand is much colder than Tom would’ve expected it to be.

“See you around, Timothy,” Josh says, fangs flashing. That’s it, apparently.

“See you,” Tom says back. “It’s Tom.”

“Tomethy,” Josh repeats. He turns back around to Faris and says, “Make sure you keep an eye on him if he’s being a twat again.”

Faris deadpans, “Yeah. I will.”

“Great.”

Josh hugs Joe and Dilys one more time each, and he says his goodbye and twiddles his fingers in that ridiculous manner. Like that, he turns around, and he’s gone.

They walk the five minutes to the bus stop in mostly silence, Joe and Dilys in front with their hands linked. The street’s empty enough that Tom follows their example and stretches his hand out towards Faris’ as well. He lets the whole of his forearm rub against Faris’ when their fingers clasp together, shoots him a questioning look. Faris only smiles back at him with drunk warm eyes.

They say goodbye at Joe and Dilys’ bus stop. Dilys checks the clock on her phone, only two minutes until their bus is scheduled to arrive. She asks Faris if she’ll see him on Thursday, and when she goes in for a hug, Joe does the same. Dilys shakes Tom’s hand just before the bus arrives.

“See you around, Tomethy,” she says. Joe stands next to her with his hand tucked into hers, a look on his face like that of a kid following his mum around at the family reunion.

Their bus comes and leaves, and it’s just the two of them on their own again. Tom doesn’t dare to take Faris’ hand now they’re no longer in a group. They walk the couple of yards across the street and up the road to their own bus stop in quiet once more.

“So,” Faris says when he sits down on the little bench of the bus shelter. He digs his fags from his coat pocket to finally light one up with twitchy fingers. “That went well enough.”

It’s in that stupid tone he has where Tom cannot tell if he’s being sarcastic or sincere. He only shrugs with his hands in his pockets when he takes the seat next to Faris.

“Fag?” Faris asks as soon as he’s exhaled a big cloud of fog.

“I’m good,” Tom says. Really, he’s craving a smoke, but not to the extent that he’ll light one when their bus will get here in only a few minutes. “Nevermind. Give me a hit.”

Faris laughs at him, but he passes the cig over.

“Cheers.”

Tom takes a drag, and he blows a big wad of smoke up into the night air. He wasn’t drunk to begin with, barely enough for the intoxication to feel like a second coat underneath the one he's already wearing, but the nicotine sobers him up almost instantly.

“I’m sorry I made such a tit of myself tonight,” he says when he hands the fag back to Faris.

“It's okay.”

This would be a perfectly acceptable part for Tom to stop talking, but he doesn’t. He keeps on going. “You said she was a transgender girl, I just thought you meant she was a girl who wants to be a boy, you know? And the other way around.”

“No, that's…” Faris pauses to find the words he's looking for, and he takes another hit from his cigarette. “That doesn't make any sense. Why would I not call her a girl if she feels like a girl?”

“Well, she was born a boy, so. She's technically still one.”

Tom immediately realises he should have shut up a long time ago when Faris shoots him a look.

“She says she's a girl so she is a girl.” The way he says it, it's obvious he's not going to let Tom argue it.

Tom shrugs. He asks, “Do you like her?”

“I guess, she's nice. I mean, she does have a boyfriend.”

“Right,” Tom says.

Faris looks out into the distance like he’s about to say something but can’t think of what. When the headlights of the bus appear all the way down the road, he grinds what's left of his fag out into the pavement with the tip of his boot.

The bus is empty save for a couple of kids who can't be older than sixteen, and they sit near the back. Still, Faris nudges him away when Tom leans into him.

Tom sits up. “Okay.” He asks, “Faz?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Faris wraps his arms tighter around his middle. He doesn’t even budge slightly at the nickname. Then he says, “I can’t believe you said that about starting a band.”


End file.
